Love, Love, Love, That is the Soul of Genius
by The Scorpion
Summary: Seven 100-word dabbles from Erik's point of view. A brief glimpse into a tortured heart that could hold the whole world.
1. In the Corridor of the Ballet

These are a few 100-word dabbles written from Erik's point of view, based off prompts from a dabble challenge prompt table. I've arranged them in chronological order per Leroux's timeline. I wrote these over 7 years ago, and just rediscovered them on an old hard drive, so figured I might as well share. Enjoy!

Prompt: Tease

In the Corridor of the Ballet

One of the girls tripped and fell to the floor in a risqué disarray as the flock scattered in the opposite direction. I did not speak to them—I never did. If they heard my voice, they would have had less to understand, but they would not have had as much to fear. And how is that at all amusing?

She shrieked out in pain and terror, but when she looked again, I was gone. She cries now like a haunted child, but tomorrow she will drink rum with her friends like a woman, and blame me for the theft of her slipper.


	2. First, the Chandelier

Prompt: Days

First, the Chandelier

It is likely that she will scream when disaster strikes. It is likely they will all scream. But it will bring her flying to me all the same; she will come with concern and the purest of devotion, for she knows no better. But it is time she learned. And for five days, she will belong to who I really am. I have acquired a mask for the occasion, for her sake. My usual false features will not do. I have not worn a mask like this since I was quite young. As long as she thinks me handsome, she will love me.


	3. Upon Lake Averne

Prompt: Light

Upon Lake Averne

"Where does this blue light come from?"

"From the moon," I told her. "Now, you may ask me why it is blue, but although we are quite below the earth's surface, don't think the light of the night will not always reach us, Christine."

The lake's waters' gentle pressure against my oars kept me just aware enough that I was not dreaming.

"Night?" she sighed. "Is it night? And all this time, I thought night was dark."

"Night can be more than you, my dear, have ever imagined. Mind you do not lose your scarf there where it hangs over the boat's edge."


	4. Nightbird

Prompt: Sunset

Nightbird

Their hair, which is of similar pure shades of gold, catches the crimson of the dying light; and I see it, from where I perch above them, as a blushéd vision of the radiance of this _love_ of theirs – incapable of being contained upon their young faces.

She would bring him here at this time of day. Only she could understand the aching of the twilight we share in this place on high, with kingdoms underfoot. And she is in pain, yes; listen to how she moans for me and cries my name as he presses her against his hopeless heart.


	5. Prerequisite to Revenge

Prompt: Lost

Prerequisite to Revenge

It's a small thing. Easy to lose. And she'd been distracted. Oh, yes. So very _distracted._ She'd had Erik's protection, remained safe as long as she wore it. But all that has slipped away.

It is cold against my palm, no warmth left in it at all.

Well, to-morrow night at midnight shall not come for you, Christine. To-morrow night, Marguerite's prayers will be denied. You _will_ be taken away, but to where time does not exist because I say it does not. You will wear this ring again. And I will see to it that it _never_ comes off.


	6. A Failed Attempt

Prompt: Parents

A Failed Attempt

"There are stories your father never told you, Christine Daaé. Like the one of the brokenhearted, unhappy woman who could not bear to look upon her own child, and so she said, 'Wear it! Wear it, or I shall be ill!'"

I sighed deeply as I tightened—not too much—the last of her bonds, fixing her to the chair.

"There now. About the blood you've left on the wall over there—it is all in your hair and will be quite a mess when it dries."

She moaned and began to weep again, but she did not hear me.


	7. A Fine Line

Prompt: Enemies

A Fine Line

"Is it getting a little too hot for you in there, daroga? Or does it remind you of home, long years ago? Cool Parisian summer evenings must not well suit your desert-born blood. You were never my friend, you know. Until the end, you are just another thorn in my side. No, I have not kept my word, but then you were a fool to once save my life. And now look what you have done, and gaze upon he with whom you will die. Enjoy the heat. Reminisce. Be friends with _him_ in death, for you are none of mine."


End file.
